"Girl!" he said huskily.
"Don't!" she cried in alarm.
He dropped her hand and rose swiftly to his feet.
"You are right," he muttered. "Not yet...."
How could this man at a touch make her heart beat like mad? She was afraid ... she knew that she was not afraid of him ... yet she was afraid.
"I'm sorry," he said roughly. Actually, marvelling, she saw that the big man looked embarrassed. "Look here, girl: I've come to know you a bit and, thinking what I think, I hold that I know you well! I'll take my chance that you are no petty crook, that you are no coward, that you are no liar! So...."
"Then," she cried, jumping to her feet, all eagerness, "do you believe me when I say that I did not shoot you?"
His eyes met hers steadily; he answered promptly:
"You have told me ... and I believe. I know!"
A rush of gladness, an intoxication of gladness, swept over her. Her eyes were shining, soft and bright and happy like stars.